Nocnitsa's Field
by dnachemlia
Summary: A case leads the team to an abandoned town in the American Heartland. NFA White Elephant Exchange story for fictionnaire.
1. Chapter 1

_**Nocnitsa's Field**_

WEE fic for fictionnaire

_Prompt_: Pripyat, Chernobyl. Hashima Island, Japan or even The Abandoned City Hall Subway Stop in New York, U.S.A are abandoned cities and locations. Almost like ghost towns and often been a tourist attraction. What happens when the NCIS are called into an abandoned city to solve a crime and catch a killer? How do they react to the general eeriness of it?

_Rating_: FR-15/T

_Genre_: Mystery/Supernatural

_Summary_: A case leads the team to an abandoned town in the American Heartland.

_Disclaimer_: All recognizable characters are the property of their respective copyright holders. No infringement intended. The original characters and places mentioned are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to those living, dead, or undead is completely coincidental. Special thanks to thecookiemomma for the beta.

* * *

"The sight of such endless avenues of fishy-eyed vacancy and death, and the thought of such linked infinities of black, brooding compartments given over to cob-webs and memories and the conqueror worm, start up vestigial fears and aversions that not even the stoutest philosophy can disperse."  
― H.P. Lovecraft, _The Shadow Over Innsmouth_

Chapter 1

Lonnie Dunn let the beam from his flashlight sweep over the cavernous space, noting that nothing was amiss in the empty building before closing the door and moving on to the next stop in his patrol. At the adjacent building he repeated the process, finding a similar lack of eventfulness, and continued on.

When he reached the last building Lonnie paused for a smoke break. After checking to make sure he was alone, he removed a slightly crumpled pack of Camels from his pocket and tapped the pack against the palm of his hand several times before extracting one of the cigarettes and putting it between his lips. He dug out his lighter and applied the flame to the tip of the cigarette, pulling the resulting smoke deep into his lungs before he leaned against the door and sighed. While not the worst job he had ever worked, nighttime security for a group of nearly abandoned warehouses was also not the most exciting thing he could be doing with his life. Maybe it was time to finally finish his degree and get a real job…

After satisfying his nicotine fix, Lonnie stubbed out the cigarette on the sole of his shoe and flicked the butt into the weeds between the two closest buildings. He took one more look around before he stuck his master key into the lock and opened the door, wincing at the shriek made by the rusted hinges.

Lonnie always saved this building for last because it took longer to search, and occasionally he would find things out of place here. It broke the tedium somewhat when he did but usually it was something minor: a broken light fixture finally succumbing to gravity, an errant critter using one of the rooms as a new den, or a broken window caused by the previous night's storm. Nothing worth calling the police over and, in the case of storm damage, usually an easy fix.

In the first pass of his flashlight, Lonnie caught a flash of something light-colored in the far corner of the main room, just visible in the shadow of a doorway. He advanced carefully, not wanting to startle something living from its new nesting place. As he approached he saw the object was a shoe and soon he realized that it was not empty. He paused to take a deep breath and prepare himself for what he might see before advancing to the spot where the object lay. He slowly shined his light into the room and felt hot bile rise in his throat as his fears were confirmed. Sincerely wishing that his shift _had_ been routine, he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a familiar number.

XXX

Tony stepped out of the elevator and almost collided with Gibbs. He quickly stepped back, noticing McGee as well, and asked a question to which he already knew the answer.

"Call out, Boss?"

Gibbs gave him a very clear _ya think? _look before answering. "Navy Captain, warehouse in Anacostia."

"Got it." Tony backed completely into the elevator and was soon joined by the other two men. "Guess we'll be doubling up on this one. When's Bishop getting back?"

"Next week," McGee offered.

"Guess we can stick her with the paperwork." Gibbs turned to glare at him. "Just kidding, Boss."

"Special training workshop wasn't her idea, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied as he pressed the button for the garage. "You'll live."

"Right…"

No more was said until they reached the scene, a complex of dilapidated buildings near the river. Gibbs and the other two agents ducked under the police tape and headed for the last building where a man in a security guard's uniform and another man in a suit were waiting for them.

"Agent Gibbs? Detective Nick Vega, Metro Homicide, and this is the guard who found the body, Lonnie Dunn."

"What can you tell me about the scene?"

"Not much. Looks like a dump site, no sign of a struggle around the body."

"Security cameras?"

"Broken," Dunn replied. "That's why I'm here. I make the rounds every three hours, check each building for signs of intruders or damage. We've had some problems with squatters in the past, but… This was the last building of my first round of the night. I checked the perimeter but I didn't see anyone else around. There's another guard who patrols during the day, but he didn't mention anything."

"Name?"

"Uh, Ellis. Austin Ellis. He should be here in a few minutes."

"Let me know when he gets here, Detective Vega."

"Will do."

Ducky and Palmer arrived just as they reached the door to the building and Gibbs waited until the two men joined them before stepping inside. The space was nearly empty, save for a few broken palates, fallen light fixtures, and wind-scattered newspapers. In the far corner another uniformed officer stood a few feet from a doorway where they caught the first glimpse of the body they had come to retrieve. The officer nodded and stepped aside, allowing the team to enter the room.

The body lay just inside the door, on its back, with one arm flung to the side and the other crossed over its chest. He was older than their usual victims, as evidenced by greying hair and deep wrinkles around his eyes. The man's eyes were wide open, his face a rictus of terror, and there was a hint of blood under the body.

"McGee, shoot and sketch. DiNozzo, bag and tag."

"On it, Boss."

The two men began their tasks as Ducky crouched down next to the body. McGee took a few photographs before Palmer handed over the liver probe. After carefully raising the dead man's shirt, Ducky inserted the probe and waited until it beeped.

"Well?" Gibbs barked as he leaned over Ducky's shoulder.

"Really, Jethro, have _some _patience," the M.E. admonished. "I'd estimate the time of death between eight and twelve hours ago.

"So sometime between 2030 and 0030. Thanks, Duck. Cause of death?"

Ducky check the man's face before he eased the body onto its side and pulled the shirt up further. "Single gunshot wound, small caliber, and considering the small amount of blood I'd say death was almost instantaneous. Livor mortis indicates he was put in this position shortly after death." He checked the man's hands and arms. "No signs of a struggle. I'll have Abby run a tox screen for sedatives. If he was drugged he wouldn't have been able to fight his attacker. Bag his hands, Mr. Palmer, and we'll do a closer exam when we get him back to the Yard."

"Yes, Dr. Mallard."

Gibbs watched as McGee moved the dead man's thumb onto the portable scanner.

"Captain Sherman Daniel Welsh, aged 61. Assigned to the Naval Research Lab since 2005." McGee scanned down through the available information. "Before NRL he served aboard the _USS San Juan_ as an engineer."

"Submariner. What was he doing at NRL?"

"Classified. Guess I know what I'll be doing when we get back."

"Found a couple of footprints by the window," Tony called, and McGee headed over to document them. "Looks like it was pried open."

"Captain Welsh doesn't look like he's been climbing through windows. Any other signs of break-in?"

"Still looking, Boss." Tony moved to the back of the warehouse, checking for signs of the intruder. Finally he found a door that looked like it had been jimmied. He called McGee over to take pictures.

"Guess the guard wasn't as thorough as he should have been." After checking door for prints, they eased it open to find the area beyond overgrown with weeds and full of debris. A path through the weeds was visible and the two agents started to follow it. It ended at a fence that ran along the river, but a quick scan revealed a place where the fence had been cut, and on the other side was a footpath down to the water. McGee reached for his phone.

"Boss? We found the egress point. Looks like they came in via the river." He scanned the area. "I don't see any security cameras for any of the other surrounding properties."

"Canvass for this one is going to be fun," Tony muttered.

"Yeah. Guess we know what you and Gibbs will be doing."

"So much for an easy week."

XXX

Several hours later Tony and Gibbs returned to the Yard, frustrated by the lack of witnesses to the previous night's events at the warehouse. When they reached the bullpen McGee's desk was empty so they headed down to the lab. Tim was sitting by Abby's workbench, typing furiously on a laptop. He looked up as they entered.

"Got something, Boss. I spoke to Welsh's team at NRL. He was due to retire next month, and from what I gathered he wasn't very happy about the situation. According to his second in command, Welsh claimed he still work to do, and that he wanted to 'find the culprit' before he left."

"Culprit?"

"Apparently some information had gone missing on his watch, and he was running an investigation to find who was responsible. I've been running through the data on his work computer, and he had a short-list of suspects."

"Well don't keep us in suspense, McGee."

"He was watching three of his team: Petty Officer Sheila Ortiz, Lieutenant Bryan Sharp, and Petty Officer Konrad Bartek." McGee tapped a few keys. "Sharp and Bartek didn't show up for work this morning. I've put in for warrants for their computers, but NRL isn't being too cooperative."

"Like that's ever stopped you before, McGee."

"What do you think I'm doing now, Tony?" Tim replied with a slight smirk. "I've been checking their finances, and both are living a bit above their pay scale. No hits on the credit cards since last night, and I put a BOLO out for both of their vehicles. No hits on those yet, either." A beep sounded from the computer behind him and he quickly turned to read the screen. "But Captain Welsh just purchased a tank of gas in at a station in Ely, Iowa, right outside the airport."

"Iowa? Why the hell would anyone go to Iowa?"

Tim tapped a few more keys. "Bartek is from there..."

"So he steals Navy secrets, kills his boss, and then heads for the old homestead?"

"Looks like it."

"Boss, are_ we_ going-?"

"Maybe. Anything else?"

A few more keystrokes and another screen popped up. "Got Bartek's email, Boss." Tim scanned through the list and paused. "This is from a VPN." Tim opened the email, only to find it encrypted, and after a few moments had revealed the message. _Saturday_.

"Well that's not real helpful," Tony remarked. "What's so special about Saturday?"

"He replied to it." He checked the Sent folder and soon found what he was looking for, taking a few more moments to decrypt it. "_Nocnitsa's Field_. Huh." He started another search as Abby emerged from the Ballistics lab.

"Gibbs, I got a match on the bullet. The gun's registered to-"

"Konrad Bartek."

She sent him an annoyed look. "No, Sherman Welsh. Someone shot him with his own gun."

"Doesn't help much, Abbs."

"This might, Boss. _Nocnitsa's Field_ is the local name for a...cemetery outside an old state prison in Bardo, Iowa. Could be a meeting place."

"All right. DiNozzo, see what else you can find about Bartek and this Noc-whatever place."

"On it, Boss." Tony headed for the elevator.

"McGee, figure out what Bartek took, and who might be interested."

Tim just nodded and returned his attention to the computer.

"Anything else for me, Abbs?"

"Still working on the trace, Gibbs. One set of footprints matched Welsh, and the other set was from the same make of standard Navy uniform shoe, but a bigger size."

"Pull up specs on Bartek, see if it could be him. I need to go talk to Vance."

"Are we going after Bartek, Boss?"

"That's why I need to talk to Vance, McGee."

"Understood."

Gibbs left, and McGee continued to work on the data. After several minutes, he froze. "Oh, crap."

"What?"

"I know what Bartek took, and if he's selling this… We definitely need to go after him." He jumped up and ran for the door, only to be met by Gibbs.

"Boss, we-"

"Pack your bags. We're going to Iowa."

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"_Oh, what a beautiful moorrrnning! Oh what a beautiful day! I've got a beautiful feeeeling, ev'rythings goin' my way,"_ Tony serenaded the other passengers in the quad-cab truck with gusto as the sun climbed high above the horizon.

"My foot's going up your ass if you don't stop singing, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled from the front passenger seat.

"Sorry, Boss. McStudious isn't very entertaining back here," Tony replied with a grin and a nudge to Tim, who just rolled his eyes and returned his attention to his laptop.

"Not my job to entertain you, Tony." Tim paused and looked up from the screen. "And besides, wrong state. That song's from _Oklahoma!_."

"Well, sorry, but it's the first thing that came to mind. Because, you know, _the corn is as high as an elephant's eye_— thanks, Boss," he muttered, rubbing the back of his head.

"A pygmy elephant, maybe. It's barely two feet tall."

"Late start to the growing season," the driver, Leif Rundstrom, remarked. "It was a long winter."

"Ah." Tony was a bit surprised by the interruption, since Rundstrom, a twenty-year veteran detective from the state police, hadn't said much since he had picked them up at the airport in Ely. "I guess you're used to that here, though."

"Yep."

"So… how long have you lived here?"

"All my life. Grew up in Hampton. That's about thirty miles from where we're headed."

"So you know the town?"

Rundstrom chuckled. "Mostly what I learned in history class. Haven't been there for almost twenty years. Then again, nobody's lived there in nearly fifteen."

"Guess there's not much left, then?"

"Probably not."

"What can you tell us about it?" Gibbs asked.

"One of the first towns settled in the area, around 1840, and the first residents named the place after their hometown back in Poland. Started with just five families, grew to about fifteen hundred residents at its peak in 1888 when a major flood wiped out the old glass factory and about a quarter of the houses closest to the river. The glass company decided not to re-build so those that had lost their jobs left. A few years later a few more families moved in, but the flu epidemic in 1918 wiped out about half the town."

"Yikes," Tony muttered, earning a glare from Gibbs.

"Yeah. The state decided to build a prison there in 1920, but those that moved in for the construction left as soon as it was done, and there was a pretty high turnaround for the prison staff so those families didn't stay long either. "

"Sounds like 'build it and they will come' didn't work out too well in Bardo."

"Nope. Floods and storms forced a lot of the people out, and when the prison closed back in the 1980's, most of the remaining residents finally left. The last resident died back in '98, and the town was left to rot. There was talk of restoring it as a historical site, but nothing came of that. "

"Is anything left standing?"

"The prison and the church. Most of the buildings on Main Street, and probably thirty or forty houses were left the last time I was there. As far as I know, it's pretty much unchanged since Isaiah Bartek died."

"Boss, I found some aerial photos of the town. I'd say it's about the same as when Det. Rundstrom was there. "

"Does the place get any visitors?"

Rundstrom shook his head. "As I said, kind of out in the middle of nowhere. Locals tend to avoid it. Lots of strange stories about the place."

"What, they think it's haunted?" Tony grinned and nudged McGee, who just rolled his eyes.

"No, they think it's cursed."

"Why?" Gibbs asked, his tone wiping the grin from Tony's face.

"Well, it's never been a… healthy place to live. It had the highest infant mortality rate in the state for several decades, although no definite cause was ever found. It got so bad that the EPA was called in to test the groundwater and soil, but they didn't find any evidence of contamination. After the prison was built, the prisoners started dying, too. The state investigated but no evidence of foul play was ever found." Rundstrom shook his head. "Bardo State Penitentiary was probably more of a crime deterrent than any other institution in the state. Prisoners _begged_ not to be sent there."

"How did the prisoners die?"

"In their sleep, usually. Rumors circulated that the men who died looked like they had been scared to death."

"Weird."

"Yeah. Older locals blamed the _Nocnitsa_."

"A nightmare spirit from Polish folklore. Supposedly it sits on your chest and drains your life energy." Gibbs and Tony turned to Tim with questioning looks, and he shrugged. "Abby."

"Why am I not surprised?"

Tim just shook his head. "Guess the nickname of the cemetery makes sense, if they were blaming the spirit for people dying. I guess they were pretty superstitious…"

"From what I've heard, yeah, they were," Rundstrom replied. "Even people from the surrounding area tend to avoid the place. I don't think you could get more isolated around here."

"Probably why Bartek chose it," Tim offered.

"Yeah, probably. So what's the plan, Boss?"

"Find Bartek, then wait for his contacts to show."

"Do you think we need to get more help for the search?"

Rundstrom shook his head. "That would draw too much attention, and it shouldn't take us that long to search the place. Not really that many places to hide."

"Let's hope not," Gibbs declared with an air of finality.

Both men in the front seat lapsed back into silence, and Tim appeared to be studying the data on his laptop so Tony focused his attention on the scenery flying by outside the truck window. Fields of corn and soybeans covered the mostly flat landscape, interrupted by the occasional cluster of farm buildings, grain silos, and windmills. The towns became more scarce as they neared their destination, though most they passed through were small and unremarkable, save for the village with a large billboard boasting that it was "_home to 857 friendly people and one old grump_".

Finally, as the summer sun approached its peak in the sky, Rundstrom guided the truck off the maintained road and onto a rough trail of cracked asphalt that lead north towards a grove of trees. The towering hardwoods were a stark contrast to the surrounding expanse of tallgrass prairie.

They passed a group of tall, cylindrical structures and it took Tony a moment to realize they were silos that were missing their rounded tops. He noticed a large misshapen piece of metal lying in the field about a hundred yards away and his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Is that…?" Tony asked and Rundstrom nodded.

"Yeah. Probably torn off by a twister. Welcome to Tornado Alley."

Tony glanced towards the dark clouds gathering on the far western horizon and shuddered. "That's one part of the Midwestern experience I don't need."

Rundstrom chuckled. "I can understand that."

Soon the town became visible, and they passed a battered and faded sign, which read_: Welcome to Bardo, Population 87._ Someone had added '_and dying'_ in white paint which had then been crossed out and replaced with _'dead'_.

"That's cheerful," Tim muttered and Tony grinned.

"Accurate, though."

They crossed a rickety covered bridge that was missing quite a bit of its roof and the team got their first good look at the town.

"Creepy," Tony muttered as they surveyed the crumbling buildings and cracked, weed-entangled pavement.

"Understatement," Tim replied and winced as Gibbs sent them both a glare. Rundstrom just shook his head as he parked the truck behind a long, low, flat-roofed building. They all climbed out, taking the opportunity to stretch after the long ride.

"What are we looking at for a search grid, McGee?" Gibbs asked after they had worked out the kinks in their muscles.

"Well, the town is about thirty square blocks, split by Main Street which runs north-south. The prison is about an eighth of a mile from the northern border of the town, and the cemetery is just south of the prison."

"You and DiNozzo take the west side, we'll take the east side. We'll meet at the prison. Any chance Bartek could have gotten in there?"

"Maybe. The gates are kept locked, but if there's a break in the fence…"

"All right. Let's go."

They checked their weapons, gathered their backpacks, and headed for opposite sides of the town. Tony and Tim decided to start with Main Street and head west. As they approached the first building they paused to check for any signs of their quarry, but the area was deserted.

The street was lined on both sides with two and three-story flat roofed brick and white-washed brick buildings. Most of the lower windows had been boarded up, but the upper windows had not been afforded such protection, and the glass was cracked, shattered, or completely missing from most of them. They reminded Tony of wide, blank, dead eyes staring down at the pair as they inspected each building for signs of their suspect.

The sidewalks, or what remained of them, were broken beyond repair and clusters of weeds and grass grew in the large gaps between chunks of weathered concrete. The street that ran between the two rows of buildings was similarly worn, and the lines which had once marked parking spaces had faded to barely a ghost of their former prominence.

The interiors of the buildings were depressingly derelict, with peeling paint, wallpaper, and accumulations of debris in the corners of narrow, moldering rooms. Most of the businesses had obviously been defunct long before the last resident perished, but a few offered a clue as to their function. A cracked and faded barber pole hung precariously from a rusted bracket outside one doorway, and another bore the shell of a neon sign that had once read 'BAR'. Further down the street they encountered a space lined with shelves, some still bearing the weight of corroded tins of food and other non-perishable goods.

As they stepped back out into the sunlight, Tony again glanced around. He tried to pin down what it was that was bothering him and suddenly it hit him: the silence. To a city dweller accustomed to the sounds of traffic, music pouring from a multitude of speakers, and the murmur of conversations that served as daily ambient noise, the lack of such sounds was disconcerting. The only noises to reach his ears were the sounds of their footsteps and the occasional creak of a rusted hinge as broken shutters swayed slightly in the gentle breeze.

"It's quiet," Tony muttered. "_Too _quiet."

Tim snorted softly. "Are you quoting _Shrek_ or John Wayne?"

Tony punched him lightly on the arm as he plastered a less-than genuine smile on his face. "Just making an observation."

Tim pulled a water bottle from his backpack, unscrewed the cap and took a long drink. "It's pretty warm, too."

Tony had to agree as he pulled out his own water bottle. "How many more buildings on this street?"

"Just two that I can see. The next street over has eight or nine, and then I think maybe four or five on the next. Most of the other houses have collapsed."

"Wonderful. Let's get a move on."

They headed for the next building, found it empty, and then moved on to the next. The creaking of the door hinge set off a flurry of scuttling sounds and Tony paused, his hand drifting towards his gun. He eased the door in further and suddenly something shot past the doorway, causing him to jump back with a shout. He drew and raised his gun as he stepped into the room, closely followed by Tim, and stopped when he caught sight of the interloper. He reddened slightly as Tim started snickering behind him.

"At least it's not a rat this time," Tim chuckled as the raccoon they had disturbed chattered angrily at them from the far corner.

"Yeah, but _those _carry rabies," Tony replied, and Tim stopped laughing.

"OK, point taken." They backed away from the agitated animal, which gave them a baleful look before it made a few low muttering sounds and disappeared through a hole in the floor.

"Any sign of Ricky's friends?" Tony asked as they checked the rest of the building.

"Just the smell," Tim noted, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the pungent aroma permeating the space. "I don't see any sign of Bartek, either." They headed back out, enjoying the fresher air as they moved on to the next street over. The buildings were small, single family homes, obviously newer in design than those on the previous street but equally decrepit. They checked each house, still finding no sign of their suspect, but encountered many spaces seemingly frozen in time. Several of the homes still had furniture, including dishes in the kitchen, and one still had the table set as though it was waiting patiently for the long-departed family to return.

As they moved down the street and in and out of the abandoned homes Tony couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling of being watched.

"Hey, McGee?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you get the feeling that we're…not alone?"

Tim raised an eyebrow. "You mean besides Gibbs and Rundstrom?"

"You know what I mean."

Tim just shook his head. "You've seen way too many movies, Tony."

Tony was uncharacteristically ready to snap at Tim until he realized that his partner was also on edge.

"This place is bothering you, too, isn't it?"

Tim sighed. "Yeah, a little. Guess that will teach me to listen to Abby."

"Abby? What did she tell you?"

"You know how she gets. Once she heard where we were going she had to check it out. Apparently this place has a really bad reputation…not that I believe any of that stuff, but still…"

"Out here, it doesn't seem so far-fetched."

"Yeah. The downside of an active imagination, I guess."

"Well come on, McWriter, the sooner we finish, the sooner we can get out of here and back to civilization."

"Sounds like a plan."

They finished checking the houses on that street and moved to the next, heading north again. When they reached the last standing house, they looked out past the remnants of collapsed buildings to where the prison stood on a slight rise above the town. The structure was surrounded by a tall chain-link fence topped with curls of razor wire, with guard towers at each corner that stood like silent sentinels against the backdrop of a darkening sky.

"Looks like we're in for a storm later. That will boost the creep factor by at least ten."

"Great. Let's hope we can get out before that happens."

Between the last street and the prison was a large field, and amidst the gently rippling waves of brown-tinged grass they could see the tops of thin, upright slabs of grey stone.

"That must be the cemetery. Think we should check it out?"

"I can't imagine someone would be out there in the middle of the day. It's pretty exposed."

"Good point, but we still better check. Gibbs wouldn't accept anything less. Let's cover this last house and then we'll head over."

"Good thing I brought tick repellant."

Tony patted Tim on the shoulder. "You'll live, McBoyscout."

Tim just rolled his eyes and they opened the door to the last house, freezing at the sight that met their gaze. Tony pulled out his walkie-talkie and thumbed the button.

"Boss, I think we have a problem…"

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Tony and Tim waited outside for Gibbs and Rundstrom to arrive, and when they did Tony silently opened the door of the house to reveal what lay within. The front entrance of the house opened into what had probably once been a living room. On the far side of the room was evidence of a squatter's camp, and stretched out on a military-issue sleeping bag lay the body of a man, one arm crossed over his chest and the other flung out to the side. His eyes were open but his face was frozen in an expression of terror.

"Bartek?"

"Matches his ID."

"Damn it."

"What now, Boss?"

Gibbs silently scanned the room, taking in the small pile of gear in the corner. He nodded to Tim, who pulled a small camera and a pair of gloves from his backpack. He snapped a few photos and then donned the gloves before he carefully started to search through Bartek's belongings. After a few minutes of searching he found a small USB drive in one of the pockets of the knapsack. He held it up for Gibbs' inspection.

"Doesn't look like who killed him found what they were looking for. I'll need to check…"

"Do it."

Tim retrieved his mini laptop and used it to check the contents of the drive. Plans and blueprints for a newly developed weapons system appeared on the screen, and Tim looked up to meet Gibbs impatient gaze. "Looks like what he took. I guess whoever killed him didn't find what they were looking for…"

"Or he gave them a copy," Tony offered, studying the body. "But how did they kill him? I don't see any sign—"

"Help me turn him over," Gibbs ordered, pulling his own pair of gloves from his pocket.

"Uh, Boss, shouldn't we wait for…right."

Tim took a few quick pictures of the body before Gibbs and Tony eased Bartek onto his side. There were no visible wounds or signs of blood, although the body was not as stiff as they expected.

"Hasn't been dead that long," Rundstrom observed. "He hasn't reached full rigor."

"We know he was alive late yesterday. Must have happened early this morning."

"Yeah, but _what _happened?" Tony tried to hide the fact that the expression on Bartek's face was freaking him out a little.

"Heart attack?" Tim guessed. "I don't see any signs of poisoning… but I'm not Ducky. Boss, we really should-" The ringing of a cellphone drew Gibbs' attention away from Tim and towards the body on the floor. He turned back to Tim and nodded, and the younger man carefully started to search for the source of the sound. He soon retrieved a lower-end model phone from Bartek's left front pants pocket and checked the screen.

"Blocked number, and it's a text." He glanced at Gibbs for permission before checking the message. "It says 'Can I borrow a match?'." He checked through the rest of the messages, which contained two with the same phrase.

"Looks like they're still trying to meet up," Tony replied.

"How can you tell from that?"

Tony grinned. "Text back 'I use a lighter'." They all gave him a puzzled look. "Oh, come on! It's the code exchange in _From Russia With Love_. Classic Bond flick."

"Boss?"

"Do it."

Tim quickly typed the message and sent it. In a moment the phone rang again, signaling another text.

"'Better still.' Now what?"

"Reply with 'Until they go wrong'. Trust me."

"OK…" He typed in the message and almost immediately got a reply. "'0700'. Meeting time?"

"Sounds like it."

"Now what?"

"We still want the people Bartek was dealing with. We'll wait for them." Gibbs quickly surveyed the room before returning his attention to Tony and Tim. "See if there's anything in Bartek's gear that will tell us who we're waiting for. I'll call Vance."

"Yes, Boss."

Gibbs left, followed by Rundstrom, while Tim and Tony finished the search. There was nothing in Bartek's gear that shed light on the identity of his contacts. Finally they stepped outside, enjoying the much fresher air, and Tony noticed the sky was getting darker, with large angry thunderheads drawing closer from the northwest.

"I don't like the look of that," he muttered and Rundstrom chuckled grimly.

"I have a weather radio in the truck. Won't help much if there are no spotters out in the area, though. I'll keep an eye out, just in case."

"Good to know." He turned to Tim and noticed that he was studying the structure to the north, an odd expression on his face.

"What?"

"I thought I saw someone, up on one of the guard towers. Could have been a trick of the light, but…"

"Think we should go check?"

Reluctantly, Tim answered. "Yeah…even if it's just someone sightseeing, we don't want anyone interfering with catching these guys." Tim walked over to Gibbs and gave him a brief explanation of what they intended to do. Gibbs nodded and Tim motioned for Tony to follow him.

They stuck to the main road as they walked up to the prison, keeping an eye out for intruders, but it appeared that they were alone. Once they reached the gate they saw it was closed, with a large rusted padlock securing the chain that bound the two doors together.

"Guess we better check the perimeter." Tim nodded and they started to walk along the fence, examining each debris-clogged section for breaks and finding none, not even around the crumbling guard towers. By the time they had made the full circuit the sky was an angry shade of grey-green and they could hear rumbles of thunder in the distance.

"Looks like your eyes were playing tricks on you, McGee. Come on, I don't want to be caught out in that," Tony declared, nodding towards the dark line of clouds rapidly approaching. Tim took one last look at the tower where he said he'd seen someone, and Tony followed his gaze, but the structure was deserted. Finally the two men headed back towards the town.

Gibbs and Rundstrom had just finished unloading the truck and were carrying their gear into the house next to the one where they'd found Bartek when the two younger men arrived. Rundstrom said he was going to move the truck to better hiding place while Gibbs instructed Tim to set up their mobile communication center. The detective had brought a small generator that would provide enough power for the equipment, and soon Tim had it up and running while Tony and Gibbs sorted the rest of their supplies.

Tim downloaded the photos from the scene of the body and sent them to Ducky, hoping the M.E. could shed some light on Bartek's death before he arrived on the scene. Vance had given him the go-ahead to travel, but Iowa wasn't the only location experiencing storms that evening, and all flights were grounded in D.C. until the storms passed.

Rundstrom, dressed in wet weather gear, arrived just as Ducky started a video conference with the team.

"Anything you can tell me, Duck?" Gibbs asked, leaning in close to the screen.

"_I am not certain, Jethro, but the presence of minute petechial hemorrhages in Bartek's eyes suggest suffocation, but I could not see any evidence of manual strangulation. It's possible he was suffocated, but they could have also been caused by severe coughing or vomiting, or even a heart attack. I'd need to see the body in person to make a better judgment."_

"When will that be?"

"_I expect to be able to leave late this evening or early tomorrow morning. Director Vance is working on securing the fastest means of arrival possible, given the circumstances. I understand you're having weather issues as well?"_

Gibbs turned to Rundstrom, who nodded. "I'm keeping an eye out, and I found a storm cellar out back. We've got a flash flood watch out as well."

"_Stay safe, gentlemen, and I'll see you tomorrow."_

"Thanks, Duck." Ducky left and immediately Vance stepped into view.

"_Good luck tomorrow, Gibbs. I expect to hear from you as soon as you have Bartek's contact or contacts in custody."_

"Will do, Leon."

"_Good. Stay safe."_

Gibbs gave Vance one of his characteristic half-smirks in reply before motioning to Tim to cut the transmission.

"Now what?"

"Wait for the storm to pass and keep an eye out in case whoever it is shows up early. How's it look out there?" Gibbs asked Rundstrom, just before a loud growl of thunder rolled through, drowning out the response. The detective shook his head.

"That probably answers your question. Be ready to move to the cellar if I tell you. I'm going to go keep an eye out for trouble." He headed back outside while the other three men made sure the equipment was protected and Gibbs took up the position near the window to keep an eye on the house next door.

Soon the silence that had bothered Tony earlier was gone, replaced with the sounds of the storm. Wind howled through the cracks in the siding and rained slammed against the exterior walls and roof like a manic drummer going all out on an extended solo. Eventually the noise grew louder, and Tony chanced a look out the window. Golf-ball sized hail lay in the yard surrounding the house, with more failing in between the torrents of rain. The house creaked ominously under the force of the wind, and Tony sincerely hoped it would hold up to Mother Nature's fury.

After nearly an hour the sounds of the storm abated, and a rain-soaked Rundstrom soon appeared in the doorway.

"River's high, but still a few feet below flood stage. We should be OK as long as we don't get any more downpours. Sky's clearing, so I think we're good for now."

"Good to know. Any damage?"

"Let's just say I'm glad I had a safe place to store my truck. The hail busted out a few more windows, and there's a few roofs with extra ventilation. This place hold up OK?"

"Looks like it."

"Well that's a relief. I wasn't looking forward to moving all this stuff again so soon," he replied with a grin. "Who's ready for dinner?"

They divided the rations and ate quickly before going outside to check the perimeter. Broken branches were scattered across the yard, along with the slowly melting hail, and small river ran down the gutter between the curb and the sidewalk. The sky definitely was clearing, and then sun was sinking over the horizon to the west, casting a hazy orange light over the landscape.

"DiNozzo, you and McGee take the west side again. We'll take the east. Check in every hour."

"Will do, Boss."

"On it, Boss."

After Gibbs and Rundstrom left, Tony turned to Tim.

"North or south side?"

"How about we switch? Never hurts to have a change of scenery."

"Except that there's not that much scenery here, anyway. Fine, I'll take the north side first, you take the south. We'll switch every two hours."

"OK." Tim headed south and Tony started walking east along the last street. The damage from the storm was widespread, but overall Tony expected it could have been worse. There was evidence of that round him, too.

Time passed slowly, and as the sun set and the light disappeared, the town took on a different quality. The evidence of the march of time over the town, its peeling veneers and crumbling foundations, faded with the light. As the moon rose to the east, the silence that had returned following the storm began to change. The rustling of the prairie grass in the nighttime wind grew more apparent, and he heard the creaking of branches in the old trees surrounding the remaining structures. Occasional high-pitched yips grew more frequent, and soon became a chorus of howls echoing across the landscape. Tony suspected they were coyotes, and he tried to remember if they were dangerous to humans, but the sounds never drew closer than the edge of the grasslands surrounding the town.

Finally it was time for a shift change and Tony headed south where he met Tim who was also on his way to the switch.

"Anything?"

Tim was silent for a moment before responding. "No sign of any outsiders. Other than the coyotes. I guess you heard those, too?"

"Yeah. They don't seem to come too close, though. I guess that's probably a good thing."

"From what I've read, they don't usually attack people. At least not in this area of the country."

"Still, watch you back. You don't want to become a McSnack."

"I'll keep that in mind." Tim continued on towards the north side of town and Tony started his circuit of the opposite end. The area was much the same, although the calls of the local predators were not as frequent, and soon faded all together. When he reached the last street he checked in with Gibbs, who gruffly reported that all was quiet on his end of town.

The second shift eventually ended and Tony start back towards the north side of town. He checked his watch, noting that it was almost midnight, and was about to report his movements to Gibbs when he heard the distinct sound of church bells tolling the hour.

_Weird. I didn't expect those to be working…_

He continued on and as the ringing of the last bell faded, a loud, high-pitched growling shriek shattered the night. He froze, trying to discern the source of the sound and suddenly his walkie-talkie buzzed at his waist.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"_What in the hell was that?"_

"No idea. I think it came from McGee's section. I'm headed that way now."

The radio went silent and a few moments later it buzzed again.

"_McGee's not answering. Find him."_

Tony didn't bother to reply as he ran towards the north side. Near the edge of the field where the cemetery stood the beam of his light finally caught a figure on the ground and he dashed towards it.

"McGee!"

The younger man didn't move and when Tony reached him he saw that something was very, very wrong.

Tim wasn't breathing.

TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"McGee!"

Tim's wide, terrified eyes didn't blink as the older man dropped to one knee next to the supine form of his partner. Tony reached out a hand to grab Tim's shoulder when he heard that same shrieking growl, followed by a hard shove that sent him sprawling.

"What in the _hell_?"

He quickly jumped to his feet and shined the flashlight around, finding nothing to account for the attack. A second sweep of his light caught the edge of a dark form moving with lightning speed off towards the cemetery, but when he tried to catch it in the full beam it vanished. Tony blinked, trying to clear his vision, but whatever it had been was gone. Almost immediately he remembered Tim's predicament and returned to the still form on the ground.

"Tim?" He succeeded in grabbing Tim's shoulder and shook it, but the man didn't respond.

"Come on, Probie, don't make me kiss you!" Tim still wasn't breathing so he checked his pulse, which was barely detectable, and felt his own panic surge.

"Damn it, don't do this to me…"

He checked Tim's airway, found it unobstructed and after one final check he started rescue breaths, praying that he wasn't too late.

"_McGee!"_

Tony barely noticed when Gibbs appeared out of the darkness, breathing hard.

"What happened?"

"Don't know," he gasped between breaths. "Found him… like this."

"Let me help."

"I got this… my… responsibility…"

Suddenly Tim gasped and started coughing, squeezing his eyes shut and curling up on himself as he weakly rolled onto his side. Tony slipped and arm under Tim's shoulders and pulled him into is lap as Tim struggled to even his breathing.

"I got you, Tim. You're OK…"

Finally Tim was able to open his eyes.

"What…happened?"

"What do you remember?" Gibbs asked when Tony didn't immediately respond.

"I… I thought I…saw something… out in the field. I was…going to check… I slipped…" He reached up and felt the back of his head, and Tony noticed a lump starting to form under a spot that was bleeding sluggishly. "Couldn't catch myself… blacked out…" A bit of color surfaced in his cheeks. "Sorry…clumsy."

"You weren't breathing," Tony declared, breaking his silence. Tim's eyes widened.

"Guess I…knocked the wind…out of me." He struggled to sit up. "I'm OK now."

Tony reluctantly released him and both men helped Tim to his feet. He started to sway and Tony steadied him, gripping him tighter than was probably necessary.

Gibbs walkie-talkie crackled and the heard Rundstrom's voice.

"_What's going on? Everything OK?"_

"An accident. He'll be fine."

"_Good to hear. All's quiet down in my neck of the woods."_

"Let me know if that changes. Expand your patrol up to my side, I'll be back in a few."

"_Will do."_

Gibbs stuck the radio in his belt and studied McGee. "You OK?"

"Just a headache, Boss." He started to take a step and wavered. "Give me a minute…"

Gibbs gently gripped Tim's chin and shined the edge of his flashlight beam in Tim's eyes and Tony saw a flash of worry on Gibbs' face. "Tony, take him back to camp—"

"I'm fine, Boss."

Gibbs gave him a very clear _don't argue with me_ look. "Take him back to camp and take care of that wound."

"But Boss, the patrol…"

"You can go back out when you're ready, McGee, but stay together."

"Yes, Boss."

Tony guided Tim back to the house and set up one of the hard cases for him to sit on before he rummaged through their gear for the first aid kit. Tim remained silent while Tony cleaned the small gash on the back of his head and quietly accepted a bottle of water and two aspirin when he was finished. Tony was putting the kit away when he heard the low murmur behind him.

"I don't like this place…"

Tony turned in surprise. "What?"

"Nothing."

Tim avoided his gaze so Tony walked over and crouched down to eye level. "What really happened out there, Tim?"

Tim shook his head, still not looking at him. "You'll think I'm crazy. Hell, _I_ think I'm crazy."

Tony let out a humorless chuckle. "Yeah, well, I'm having that same problem myself."

Tim looked up at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"When I…found you, you looked exactly like Bartek when we found him. I thought… You weren't breathing, and… When I tried to wake you, something forced me back."

"Something?"

"Knocked me on my ass, to be more specific. I couldn't see it then, but I think I caught a glimpse of it as it was running off."

"What was it?"

"Damned if I know. All I saw was a shadow." What little color Tim had vanished. "What?"

"I've been seeing shadows. All night. And there's… never been anything there to make them."

"Where?"

"Usually outside the borders of the town. Most around the prison… and the cemetery." He looked up at Tony, a helpless expression on his face. "See? Crazy."

"Something tells me that in this place, crazy is relative."

Tim snorted softly. "Yeah…"

They were both silent for a few moments. Finally, Tony tried to steer the conversation back to something resembling normal.

"How's your head?"

Tim smiled weakly. "I'll live."

"I really hope so."

A puzzled expression crossed Tim's face. "When you found me, you thought I was dead, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Don't ever do that to me again."

"I'll try not to." He sighed and slowly got to his feet. "We better get back out there."

"Tim…"

"I'm fine."

"So you keep saying, but you're as pale as a—"

"Don't say it. Let's just…hope the rest of the night passes quickly."

"Can't argue with that. "

Tim followed Tony back outside and soon they heard Gibbs approach.

"You OK?"

"I'm good."

"Don't forget to check in."

"We won't, Boss."

Gibbs moved off into the darkness and Tony turned to Tim.

"Where to first?"

"The south side. It's a little less… active there."

"All right. Let's go."

They started walking along the edge of the town, scanning the fields and empty streets. The moon was now high overhead, casting an eerie bluish glow that gave the place an alien appearance. Tony kept a sharp eye out for anything out of place but he saw nothing like he had seen earlier that night.

They had reached the edge of their patrol area when Tony saw Tim stiffen, he gaze focused on the old churchyard. Tony followed Tim's gaze and saw a figure approaching. The figure waved and Tony relaxed a little as Rundstrom walked up to them.

"You two OK? Gibbs said there was an accident."

"I'm fine. Timmy got a boo-boo but he's OK now."

Tim shot Tony a dirty look and Tony grinned in return, eliciting a small chuckle from the younger man.

"I'm fine. Just slipped in the mud."

"Gotta be more careful out there, McGee."

"I'll keep that in mind..."

"See anything interesting? It's been pretty quiet down here." Tony could have sworn the man winked at them.

"Nope."

"Ah, well, let's hope that holds. Guess I better get back to it." Rundstrom headed off towards the east and Tony shook his head.

"Do you get the idea he knows more than he's telling?"

"Maybe. We should be used to that, though."

"Ain't that the truth? Come on, we still have a few hours until dawn."

They started up Main Street, still on the lookout for human intruders, but the center of town was strangely silent. When they reached the end of the street, Tony insisted that Tim take a break and they leaned against an old oak tree that shaded what had apparently once been a bank. Tony decided to check in with Gibbs.

"Hey, Boss. All quiet on the western front." He grinned at Tim. "I always wanted to say that."

"_How's McGee?"_

Tim took the radio from Tony and answered. "I'm fine, Boss."

"_If that changes, let me know."_

"I will."

Tim handed the radio back to Tony and started walking towards the west side of town. Tony signed off with Gibbs and followed, noticing that Tim's pace was growing slower as he approached the cemetery. Suddenly he stopped, almost causing Tony to run into him.

"What's wrong?"

Tim raised a hand and pointed towards the prison. In the pale moonlight Tony could just make out the figure of a man, walking slowly back and forth on one of the guard towers.

"Do you see him?" Tim whispered, the fear quite apparent in is voice.

"I see him."

"There's no way someone could be in there… unless he can fly."

"Or walk through walls."

As the watched, the figure vanished from sight, as if it had never been there at all.

"Maybe we're both crazy," Tim muttered, and Tony could see he was shivering.

"Maybe. I know one thing for sure: we are never mentioning this to Gibbs."

"Agreed."

They started walking again, and Tony wasn't sure if it was his imagination, influenced by Tim's earlier admission, but he started to notice the shadows, too. The first was in the doorway of one of the partially collapsed houses a couple of blocks south of the cemetery. It gave the impression of a female form, of someone waiting for an expected visitor. He blinked and it was gone, but he got the distinct impression from Tim's stiffened posture that he had seen it, too.

The next he caught out of the corner of his eye and turned to see several small forms dashing across the yard to his right, reminding him of a group of children engrossed in a game of tag. Again, they vanished in the blink of an eye, and Tony decided he'd be better off not following the shadows when they flitted across his vision.

The most memorable, and—admittedly—the most terrifying was the dark form that he noticed following them as they made their way past the house where Bartek's body still lay. It crept along, low to the ground, and seemed to dart out of sight any time Tony tried to look at it directly. The sense of menace that emanated from it grew more intense as the night bore on, leading the agent to pray that dawn would arrive before whatever it was decided to close in.

XXX

The sun began its daily climb in the sky, illuminating the deserted streets of a forgotten town. The normal silence and stillness was broken by the arrival of a non-descript truck, driving slowly over the rickety bridge and up one of the deteriorating streets before it stopped in front of a small, decaying house on the north end of the town.

The doors of the truck opened and two men stepped out, each taking a careful look around before turning to each other.

"This is the place?" The thin man with a military-style haircut looked skeptical.

"Last house on the left. Next to the prison cemetery. That's what Konrad told me." The older man with a thin scar running down one cheek replied. "His instructions were very clear."

"So where is he?"

"He said he'd be here."

"Maybe he's still asleep."

"Maybe you should go check."

The thin man huffed. "Fine." He walked up to the house and opened the door, swearing when he saw what lay within the building. "We've got a problem."

The older man came up and looked over his shoulder, soon echoing his partner's choice of curse words.

"Now what?"

"We get what we came for. Let's search his stuff." They rifled through the dead man's belongings until the younger man gave a small exclamation of triumph.

"Found it," he called as he held up the USB drive.

"You sure?"

"Yep. Same brand and color I gave him."

"I'd rather be sure."

"Fine." He quickly left and soon returned with a small laptop. He plugged in the device and soon the information from the drive flashed across the screen. He looked up at his partner and grinned. "It's all here."

"Good. Let's get the hell out of here." The older man turned and caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to catch sight of a man emerging from the shadows, his cold blue eyes fixed on the two men, his intense gaze almost as scary as the gun he had aimed at the older man's head.

"NCIS. You're under arrest."

"Navy?" the younger man asked in surprise as three more men emerged from different parts of the house. "What in the hell is the Navy doing in Iowa?"

XXX

Several police cars and a medical examiner's van arrived just as Gibbs and Tony were guiding the two men out of the house, bringing with them more people than the town had seen in years. Ducky oversaw the removal of the body, which he planned to accompany back to NCIS and then gave McGee a once-over under the silent scrutiny of both Gibbs and Tony. Once he had pronounced the younger agent fit for duty, they started to fully process the scene, finishing a few hours later.

Both Tony and Tim breathed a quiet sigh of relief, watching the town fade from view as Rundstrom guided his truck back towards civilization. Tony had never been so glad to see the sunrise in his life and he could tell Tim felt the same way. They didn't mention their experiences from that night to either Gibbs or Rundstrom, but Tony got the impression that somehow Gibbs knew anyway, although he never said a word about the 'other residents' of the abandoned town. In the daylight, it all seemed like a bad dream but deep down Tony knew he'd experienced something he hoped to never see or feel again.

When they finally arrived at NCIS, Bishop had also returned from her trip, heavily laden with thick manuals and binders that she was carefully studying as she sat perched on her desk with a bag of chips in hand when they walked into the bullpen.

"Hey guys, I heard you had to go out of town for a case. Someplace in Iowa, right? How was it?"

"It certainly left an impression," Tim dryly replied and Tony chuckled.

"Aw come on, tell me. What happened?"

"Bishop… I seriously doubt you'd believe us if we told you."

XXX

Several hundred miles away, the silence returned to the streets of Bardo as the last of the curious left the town behind. The sun sank in the sky and the shadows cast by the decaying buildings elongated, soon running together and blanketing the surrounding landscape. As darkness fell, the shadows began to move.

The cries of the coyotes rang out over the prairie, overlapping and then fading. A bit of wind kicked up, sending the grass dancing and trees swaying, the creaking of branches sounding like the faint cries of the damned.

The moon rose over the land, and several hours passed before the church bells, inoperable for years, rang out, signaling the start of the midnight hour, and as the tolling of the bells faded, the night was shattered by an inhuman scream.

The End

* * *

A/N: The town of Bardo is of course not real. The towns of Hampton, Ely, and Readlyn (the home of 857 friendly people and one old grump) are real, but used fictitiously. No offense to the residents is intended.

Thanks for reading!


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